


Relapse

by ClumsyChicken



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Headcanon Heaven, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, POV First Person, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9292736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClumsyChicken/pseuds/ClumsyChicken
Summary: Finding the other side of his bed suddenly empty, Laurence ventures out to locate his hurting, vulnerable boyfriend.





	1. Chapter 1

My glasses cloud up as I enter the bar. Squinting, I take them off and clean them on the tip of my kashmir scarf. I put them back on, open my coat, unwrap my scarf, and scan the room, still squinting.

   I immediately spot who I'm looking for, despite the smudged lenses. Sitting in the very corner of the small cellar barroom, dark hair strategically covering most of his face. He hasn't seen me yet in return – he's much too busy staring at his phone screen. Even from this distance, his glass-covered table sinks my heart.

   I cross the room, keeping my head down, making sure not to make eye-contact with anyone else here. I could swear I feel eyes on me, but feel no need to confirm the suspicion. He glances up at me as I approach his table. His one visible eye widens when he processes who he's looking at. I scoot into his booth opposite him. He puts his phone down and stares into the wall, lips tightly pressed together. The silence between us is thick. I sigh deeply and he raises his shoulders in harmony.

   "Are you okay?" I ask, making sure to keep any harsh edges out of my tone. At that, he dares look me in the eye again.

   "I think so," he mumbles. I nod and try to smile.

   "Good, I'm glad." He places the palm of his hand on his forehead and rests his head on it. It makes the corners of his raw skin peek out from under his silky locks. I wet my lips.

   "What happened?" He wrinkles his nose slightly and shakes his head.

   "Just couldn't sleep," he says.

   "You could have woken me up." He grinds his teeth. My breathing feels hampered. The overwhelming warmth and the renewed silence between us fill my lungs more than anything else. I take off my too warm gloves and put them on the cleanest part of the table. The multitudinous empty and half-empty glasses don't leave much room.

   "Are you high?" I ask, keeping my voice low. He quickly shakes his head. Then he closes his eyes and his breathing seems to stall for a few seconds.

   "A little bit," he admits. "Not much anymore, though. It's been a few hours." I nod and swallow hard.

   "Okay." I study my fingernails meticulously. "Did it help?" With a sigh, he slumps further over the table at the question.

   "I—I don't know. What time is it even at this point?" he says, slurring the words slightly. I scoff.

   "Can't you see that on your phone?" He stares at me and blinks several times before picking it up.

   "Oh. Right." Then he stares at that for a good few seconds before letting it drop back onto the table with a loud clattering noise. He crosses his forearms on the table and rests his chin on them. I reach through the wall of glasses and gently put my hand on his arm.

   "Don't you think we should be going home?" He looks at me like a sad puppy with his one uncovered eye. He sits back up and I begin to put my gloves on. I pause as he puts his lips around the straw of an unfinished drink. He drinks the rest in one go, then grabs another half-empty glass and throws back its contents. I have to breathe deeply as he repeats the motion a few times, until he finally stands and nods at me. He zips up his leather jacket, shoves his phone in the pocket, and hastily makes his way through the room. I trail behind him, struggling to keep up.

   "Have you paid for all of that?" I ask, grabbing his elbow. He jerks his arm in front of him, forcing me to let go.

   "It's on my tab." He waves once at the bartender as we pass and they nod back at him. I only just manage to wrap my scarf around my neck and button my coat before he pulls the door open. My glasses instantly get foggy again. I take them off just in time to see him stumble and slip on the stone staircase to street level. I dart forwards to help, but he's already caught himself with a hand on a stone step, cussing under his breath.

   "Careful!" I hiss. I keep my free hand on his waist as we make our way up. When we reach the top, I clean my glasses again while he shudders.

   "When the fuck did it get so cold?" he says through gritted teeth. I click my tongue.

   "If all you're wearing is a jacket, you're going to feel cold. Is that so surprising?" He doesn't answer. I press my lips together and gesture for him to come along. He's about to adjust his hair when he winces and puts his hand back in his pocket. I didn't think my heart could sink any further, but it does. Instead of herding him along, I move to stand in front of him. Carefully calculating my every movement, I brush away the hair covering his face and tuck it behind his ear. He furrows his brow at me.

   "Laurence—" I slide my fingers up the back of his head, angle his head down, and silence him with a kiss. He tastes like an entire brewery, but he seems to attempt to pucker his lips and return the kiss. I pull back after a few seconds and look up at him, making sure not to stare at his injury. He regards me with tears in his eyes. I clear my throat and take my gloves back off.

   "You can borrow my gloves if you're so cold," I say. He exhales sharply despite the tears and smiles that crooked smile of his. Even now, my stomach turns fuzzy at the sight.

   "I don't think I can fit your tiny gloves," he says. I roll my eyes.

   "Fine. Then my tiny, freakishly warm hands will have to do." I pull his hand out of his pocket and wrap my fingers around his. How they got so cold already is beyond me.

   "Let's get you home," I say.


	2. Chapter 2

The last sunlight of the day has faded at last, and drowsiness weighs down on my skull. It almost drowns out the dry itch in the back of my throat. I don't know how it's possible to get this tired from doing fuck all, but it's the same story every single day. Sleeping is all I have the energy to do. I close my eyes and let my head rest on Laurence's shoulder with a knot in my stomach. Any minute now, he'll spring to life and give me another lecture. Repeat what the therapists say about how important it is to have a regular sleep schedule. I've already fucked that up many times over. It's meaningless at this point.

   And lo and behold, I feel him turn his head towards me. I wince when he puts a hand on my cheek. Any moment now, his words will jab into me like little needles. Instead, he gently strokes my mending skin with his thumb.

   "Ludwig?" he says. I moan in response.

   "I have something to show you." He eases my head off of his shoulder and gets up. I furrow my brows and look up at him. He takes off his glasses, puts them on the coffee table, and shoots me a wry glance.

   "Keep your eyes closed," he says. A grin pulls at the corners of my mouth. Fatigue lifts from my shoulders, and electricity tingles in my gut. I place a hand over my healthy eye, leaving me able to see only hints of the low light in the living room.

   "Both of them," he commands. I click my tongue.

   "Fine," I say, drawing out the vowel as much as I can. I can almost hear him smirk. I follow his footsteps around the room. He methodically draws all the curtains. He turns off the ceiling lamp, the light behind the TV, and then the TV itself. I curl my toes and bite my lower lip.

   "Should I unbuckle my belt in advance?" I purr. He chuckles. The mere sound makes heat pool in my stomach.

   "Not for my sake," he states. This gives the fuzziness in my body pause. He exits the room. All the while, I fight the urge to peek. Thankfully, I've fought worse. He comes back and places something on the coffee table. Something heavy. My gut doesn't know how to feel about this. Neither does my mind. I furrow my brows as he fiddles with the wall socket. Then he walks around the room again, turning off the remaining lights. I am well and fully awake now. He doesn't usually want it this dark when we fuck. Another switch is flipped, and he dumps something soft on the floor. He sits back down next to me and places his hand on my thigh.

   "Okay, open your eyes," he says. I sigh deeply—he obviously isn't straddling my lap or kneeling down in front of me.

   "Why would you—" My words fall dead as I drop my hands and open my eyes. The room is pitch black, illuminated only by the stars on the walls and ceiling. A big lamp on the coffee table is projecting them. I recognize several constellations and planets in the projection. I can do nothing but sit and stare in awe with my mouth wide open. Laurence takes my hand in his and gives me a peck on the cheek.

   "I thought you might like it," he says, smiling widely as he studies my face. I tear my eyes away from our own personal galaxy and look at him.

   "When did you get this?" I ask. He squeezes my hand.

   "Only a few days ago. I've just been waiting for the perfect moment," he says. I gaze around the room, taking in every makeshift star. It almost feels difficult to breathe. Tears pool in my healthy eye and sting in the other. He caresses my hand with his thumb and leans forwards to catch my gaze.

   "Do you want to lie down and look at it?" he asks and gestures towards the floor, where his duvet and several blankets and snacks lie. I merely nod at him. If I spoke, my voice might sound strangled and tears might start falling. We stand up in unison and all but float towards the small mountain of comfort. The bubbling in my stomach is beginning to pull me out of my daze. I let go of his hand and undo my belt buckle.

   "Ludwig..." Laurence sighs through an exasperated smile. I jab a finger at him.

   "Stargazing does not require pants," I say, almost keeping the mushiness out of my tone. He briefly shakes his head, but then shrugs and begins to remove his own as well. I giggle at him and toss my pants on the couch. He repeats my motion, though he can't quite capture the same reckless abandon. I plop down on the soft duvet and wrap myself in a woollen blanket. My hairy legs protect me against its itchiness. I lie down with my arms behind my head and exhale in contentment.

   "I brought chocolate," Laurence says, unpacking a block of expensive-looking dark chocolate. I grin at him.

   "Of course you did." He breaks off a few pieces. I stick my tongue out and he drops a big piece onto it. I immediately chew it. It's a bit too dark for my tastes, but chocolate is chocolate. Laurence places an arm around my torso and snuggles into my side. He keeps me warm better than the blanket does. The bittersweet taste sticks to my tongue while his heat rubs off on me. The tension has let go of me for just a moment, if nothing else. My chest feels so light, gravity could let go of me any moment now. This sensation and situation would be so killer on—

   I clench my jaw, swallow hard, and shove the thought out of my mind. I feel the floor through the duvet and feel his breathing against me. I'm back down to earth. A deep sigh rocks through my body, catching on every tear in my throat on the way. Laurence eats another piece of chocolate and twists to look up at me.

   "Oh, don't give me that look," he says, and brushes stray hairs out of my face. I don't even know what look is on my face. Heavy eyelids and slightly pursed lips, as far as I can feel. That barely even counts as 'a look'. I wince slightly and caress his scalp.

   "What's wrong?" he asks. There isn't a single cutting edge in his tone.

   "Nothing," I mumble. He squeezes my hip and nuzzles his face against my ribs.

   "It's okay. I'll listen," he mutters. Studying Cassiopeia on the ceiling lamp, I draw a deep breath and try not to let the thought reinsert itself via my words.

   "It's nothing, I was just thinking this would be great if I was high. That's all," I say. He hums in response. I break off another piece of chocolate and shove it in my mouth. Something else to focus on. I feel him smile.

   "So it'd be something like the end of 2001?" I sputter and almost choke on the bitterness through my giggling.

   "What, I'd turn into some sort of space baby?" He nods and chuckles.

   "Yeah, maybe," I say. The fuzziness has returned to my stomach full force.

   "Is it not great anyway?" he asks. I look down at him, and he's already gazing up at me expectantly. The fuzz spreads to my cheeks and I can't help but smile at him.

   "Yeah. It is," I say. He wriggles up to face me and presses his lips against mine. I swallow the chocolate and trace my tongue over his lower lip. He lets me in and our tongues gently caress. We swap bittersweet tastes and I press my stomach up against his pudgy belly. Our legs intertwine and he ever so carefully brushes his hand across the raw skin on my cheek. I smile through our kiss, and he pulls away. I place another on his forehead while he pops another piece in his mouth.

   "You taste like chocolate," I muse. He scoffs and cocks a brow at me.

   "Wow, what a surprise. You'd think I'd taste of, oh, I don't know—"

   "Salt?" I interrupt, and his face cracks into a smile. His tiny laugh lines frame his brown eyes so handsomely.

   "Oh, hush," he says, leans into me, and looks up at our stars. I follow his gaze, stroking his soft, wavy hair all the while. We might not be rolling in fresh spring grass on a chilly evening, but this is just as good. He'd be complaining a mile a minute if we were outside, anyway. This is for the best, and this is the best.

   "You're sweet when you try," I say. He sighs and kisses me on the jaw.

   "I know. I need to try harder more often," he mutters. I squeeze him tight. All the tension in my body has dissolved and a much more serene drowsiness is slowly washing over me. With him in my arms and the stars in front of my eyes, I could just melt away. I don't ever want to get up.

   "Apropos salt, I brought chips as well," he says.

   "Now you're talking."

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken some liberties when reinterpreting canon for a modern au setting, which was probably rather obvious in some ways! Particularly when finding a counterpart to Ludwig "closing his eyes and receiving guidance from tiny beings of light". And I subscribe to the idea that he received his facial scarring and apparent blindness on one eye well before he turned into a beast. lmk if there's anything else I need to explain!


End file.
